


Impurities

by wickedrum



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-05 08:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4173294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedrum/pseuds/wickedrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seemingly out of the blue, Thranduil calls together a midnight council made from ostensibly random members of the court. What could have happened and what is he up to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> just a short one, toying with a picture in my mind. Please be aware that there's essentially no point to this story other than the enjoyment of the genre.

Disclaimers: Unfortunately I don't have a Lee Pace. Not the original, and not any of his characters. Written for enjoyment only.  
Genre: Angst/Family. Majoring on Hurt/Comfort.  
Set: Well after BOTFA, but before LOTR  
Pairing: slight Thranduil/Tauriel and canon Legolas/Tauriel 

"His highness requests your presence in his chambers at once."

Tauriel chastised herself for Galion's words startling her. Standing in an inconspicuous opening in the wall of the upper parts of the Elvenking's cavernous Halls, where she chose to complete her restorative meditation for the evening, the redhead wasn't even aware that her whereabouts didn't go unnoticed. How very unscoutly of her. "At this hour?" The captain voiced her surprise. The king liked to keep to himself at certain times of the day. "What happened?" She asked anxiously. It was either a problem that concerned everyone, or she had done something again that displeased the crowned head. But enough to order her in his private rooms? What could it be? Her relationship with Thranduil was shaky at best at any time and while it never was without frictions, it had certainly never recovered from her temporary deserting before and during the Battle of Erebor and her subsequent, brief banishment.

"I am not at liberty to discuss particulars at this moment in time," the handsome butler announced, chin held high and turned, expecting the elleth to follow. Their relationship had never been good either, but then again Tauriel didn't have many friends.

"But you do know what it is, right?" The captain assumed.

"Yes." The dark haired elf allowed gravely. "And it is of utmost importance that we hurry."

Tauriel had already adjusted her steps to the rushing servant's and in her hurry almost crashed into Feren round the corner, who joined them on their way to the king's chambers. "You were summoned too?" The chief lieutenant rumbled, more establishing than asking. He was peeved the captain was in the king's good graces enough to be considered when something doubtless must've went wrong. As opposed to Thranduil, Feren never forgiven her siding with the dwarves against her own kind.

"What's going on?" Tauriel tried her luck with him anyway.

"Calanon, Legolas, Glanhelmion, Mablung and Alastegiel are waiting for us to join them." Feren sped up his steps even more as way of explanation.

"So you don't know either," Tauriel couldn't help but wrangle with him.

Feren didn't deem her worthy of an answer this time as he charged forward, arrogant streak manifest. The situation seemed utmost strange and concerning nevertheless, not to mention making little sense. Thranduil had summoned his two main officers in charge of security, his two main councillors and his son-telling of a possible threat that needed dealt with, but why was Mablung and Alastegiel, a musician and a herbs gatherer by trade asked to come? Judging by the faces, Tauriel was not any more confused than the rest of them, all nervously gathering in front of the king's private quarters. Her gaze questioned Legolas, but he shrugged, clueless as well and fell into step with her, close on her side.

"Please file to take a seat on the divans in an orderly manner," Galion let them inside Thranduil's chambers, "His Highness would like to start straightway."

Thranduil nodded once at them all as a collective in greeting, sitting leisurely on a large, red armchair facing the others. His informal meeting room this was, Tauriel could count it on one hand how many times she'd been in it and never for the room's intended purpose, just reporting back to the king when something pressing arose on patrol that could not wait.

Looking up attentively, Tauriel inched a little away from Legolas' legs as they sat on the two-people divan, knowing their closeness will not please his father. Legolas had not long been back from his travels with a new friend and strange prisoner in tow, but seemingly his feelings for her have not changed.

Thranduil however, didn't pay attention to their positions, "I waited for all of you so I can say this once. I believe I have been poisoned." He proclaimed evenly, reserved, leaning forward somewhat.

There was a moment when it felt like time reeled as everyone eyed the king incredulously, at a loss. Legolas moved first, standing to advance, "are you alright ada?"

"I am not." Thranduil answered just as calmly as before, though now that they knew there was something to notice, Tauriel thought his voice to be hoarser than usual.

"I beg your indulgence Your Highness, but why do you think so?" Calanon, one of the advisors present ventured.

"The symptoms. Nausea, dizziness, headache, hazy sight, lightheadedness, shortness of breath, intensely crippling stomach cramps." The king's voice was decidedly not normal, it was more like his lamenting and inpatient tone, but not quite. "Reminiscent of spider venom."

"And when did you experience these symptoms, My Lord?" Mablung spoke up and at that moment Tauriel realised that the musician wasn't there in that capacity. Elves rarely needed healers, especially when not at war, so it was easy to forget Mablung would serve as one, and was a very good healer at that if needed.

"As we speak." Thranduil announced, looking none different than a moment ago. But probing eyes now knew that the stiffness in his posture, the way he held on tightly to the arm of the chair and his paler appearance were no coincidence.

Taking a couple more steps forward, Legolas reached his father and placed a steadying hand on his father's shoulder, noting at close range the tremors that went through his frame. "Ada. You need to lie down."

"I asked you here to find out who poisoned me," Thranduil addressed the gathering.

"We will start interrogations at once," Glanhelmion offered.

"But first we need to know the facts. When did this start and can you trace it back to where and what contained the poison." Feren questioned.

"First we need to see to my father being well." Legolas established, irritated.

"Could I please ask Your Highness to come over to the divan and lie down so I can examine you?" Mablung suggested.

Thranduil paused, taking his time before giving a hesitant nod. He moved little, as much as getting his feet under himself and then closed his eyes, panting. Ostensibly, he could only keep in control in the specific position he had been sitting in, from the moment the mismatch of elves entered. Legolas steadied him, leaning close and Thranduil accepted it, looking for purchase himself as he stood. Mablung was at his other side in an instance, steadying him by holding his arm's underside.

"I don't know where it came from." Thranduil answered Feren. "I had dinner in my room and as soon as I realised what was happening, I called the meeting." A few steps and Thranduil was bending double, the other two elves making it possible only for him to make it over to the item of furniture he could lie on as they hurried to make the journey as quick as possible for the sake of shortening the king's anguish. Lying down he did ceremoniously not, he fell more like in a heap and curled up around his stomach, dependent on his helpers to arrange his limbs.

"May I inspect the remains of that dinner," Alastagiel asked Galion. Of course now it was evident why the herbs expert was present. "We have to find out what was in it as soon as possible."

Mablung knelt by the divan and placed a gentle hand on Thranduil's as the king held and protected his belly. "I need to feel for the damage if I may," he pleaded with him. The king groaned, seemingly losing control on his body and actions by the minute.

"And we need to start interrogating everyone that had anything to do with that dinner, and the wine," Calanon sprang into action, "Tauriel can start in the kitchens while…"

"Not Tauriel." Thranduil snapped out his pain induced frenzy at the word, "she is here as guard."

"Of course, excuse my foolhardiness, My Lord. If there was an attempt on your life, there should be someone here to protect you from further harm," chief advisor Celanon agreed, ushering Feren and Glanhelmion out to work while Galion led Alastagiel to the dining chamber.

Thranduil followed them out with his eyes, then threw his head back, grimacing in pain, allowing himself weakness now that only his son, a healer and Tauriel was present. "It hurts so much," he keened, hands hovering and finding it hard not to press them to his belly while Mablung prodded at him.

Tbc


	2. Time Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bridging-over chapter for explanations.

Chapter 2: Time Out

Standing in the doorframe, from where she could see both inside Thranduil's bedroom where he'd been carried to after his full collapse, as well as onto the hall where the supposed potential threat could appear from, Tauriel wondered why Thranduil chose her to provide protection. Their relationship had been strained at times, suffering under her rebellious nature and was interesting to say the least. On reflection she had to admit she had been judged, treated and punished a lot more lightly following her insubordinance during the conflict with the dwarves than others would've been. What was behind that, the redhead did not know, but paired with the fact that she was one of the few people Thranduil trusted to call for in the face of a real, life-threatening crisis situation, Tauriel felt a certain amount of pride and satisfaction swelling in her chest.

She glanced back at him in wonder and concern, promising to herself quietly that she will take better care and strive not to betray that trust again. Mablung had bestowed a sedative spell upon him as it proved to be the only way to ease the king's agonising stomach cramps, but the healer didn't stop working on him up until recently, rubbing potions onto his belly and chanting purifying spells. By this point however, Thranduil seemed to have quelled, no longer throwing his head about in his unconscious suffering and curling his legs into his abdomen. His breathing was settled, quiet and calm, his features eased into one of slumber. 

Mablung reassured her at her curious look, the king's fae remained strong through the entire ordeal and at no point was he in danger of dying. Tauriel found however, that it didn't make the experience of having to watch him writhe and moan with the effects of the poison any easier. It made her antsy, her entire being begging to go to him and try to do something to ease his pain, despite knowing there was nothing she could do.

Taking her duties seriously, her attention directed at detecting outside threat never faltered throughout nevertheless, and so she heard and determined who it was that was approaching on every occasion the need arose, judging by the amount and type of noise they made. This time, there were hardly any detectable signs of approach-Legolas ran down the corridor towards her, anxious and anticipative. He hasn't left his father's side for very long, but once Thranduil was too unaware to keep calling out for his son, they were all curious to know if the herbs expert had found anything in the food and whether there was a culprit caught, and so Legolas took it on himself to find out. "Has his condition changed?" The prince questioned Tauriel before going into describing his own discoveries.

"Not really. Perhaps a little more peaceful. Mablung says he's strong. He's fighting the poison well on his own," the warrior maiden assured Legolas.

"Poisons. More than one," the blond supplied. "Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" The prince frowned.

"The good?" Tauriel desperately needed a positive slant on her mindset.

“Alastagiel is adamantine that the concentrations of poison she had found in the wine and the cheese are not sufficient to kill a fully grown adult elf.”

Tauriel sighed and placed a comforting hand on Legolas' arm, reminiscent of their old, more intimate relationship. “Thank Valar. I'm glad.” She had the urge to further comfort her faithful childhood companion by hugging him, but remembered Thranduil's words. There was no reason to confuse the skilled archer by making him assume there was more between them than there was. “But why would anybody do that? What is the point to poisoning someone if it's not done all the way?”

“There are two explanations for that,” Legolas offered. “It's either that somebody miscalculated, or the effect they wanted wasn't death, but change. Which is the more likely explanation given the kind of substances used. There was a small amount of Sarnumeni poison as well, perhaps only to paralyse him and stop him but getting help.”

Tauriel's eyes widened. The eel with deadly bards connected with poison glands was feared all over Middle Earth, but the lethal liquid had a limited life of its own and so it was in fact surprising that the perpetrator managed to bring any. “And then there was lhugruth and dragon blood,” Legolas continued reluctantly. 

The warrior maiden couldn't help a quiet, compassionate gasp. The first substance mentioned explained the excruciating digestive system symptoms-if that was where it came into contact with a living being, that's where it would burn everything in its path, and given that there was not one, but two types of drake blood used left no question as to why they were utilised on an Elvenking. An agent of Mordo has infiltrated the stronghold and had attempted to turn Thranduil on its side with the dark blood that was saturated with evil essence. “But it won't affect him, right?” Tauriel lowered her voice and tilted her head conspirationally. 

“I doubt it. Perhaps the perpetrator does not know, but my father has been bathed in dragon blood in the past. Twice, in fact. If that did not affect his morality, nothing will,” Legolas stated with confidence, albeit with a small edge of insecurity in his voice. He peered behind Tauriel at the sick elf. “That doesn't mean it won't make him suffer,” he said heavy-heartedly. “According to the Alastagiel, the effects will last a long time and there might be permanent damage to his insides.” He swallowed in distress, “not to the same extent as his cheek, but they will be burnt and they may never completely heal.” The prince stood at a loss, sympathy misting his eyes. “And we haven't found the culprit yet.”

Tauriel felt another urge to hug him, to hug them both, as if that would've helped. Instead, she took him by the hand and led him over to the bed. “Stay with him Legolas. He needs you. I will continue to stand guard,” she glanced towards the door. 

The skilled archer nodded, kneeling by the bed. “Oh Ada. I wish there was something I could do.” He fingered his father's tunic nervously.

“But you can, my prince.” Mablung encouraged. “All those of royal blood have the sanative abilities strong within them.”

Legolas shook his head, “I have not practiced the art, I wouldn't even know where to start.”

“Well, then, it's well overdue My Lord, if I may. The king will be invalid for quite a while and I am sure he would like his replacement skilled at all angles of ruling desired.”

The younger elf shook his head even more vehemently, “no. I am not replacing anyone. My father will recover soon.”

Mablung gave him an incredulous look, but either way, he was going to have the boy's help, “in that case, you will help him recover.” He nodded his head suggestively. “Place a hand on his stomach. I will now teach you a chant and most importantly, how to access your inherent abilities.”

tbc


	3. Insolence

Chapter 3: Resource

Tauriel could hear Thranduil's impatient voice from all the way down the hall, even louder than usual. Of course it was good news that the older elf had the strength to argue with his servants, but it was heartbreaking to see him struggle with his illness. A few months down and his digestion was barely functional and given that he couldn't take in sufficient nourishment, he was rather weak, thin and sickly, all of which made him extremely insufferable and querulous. 

“What seems to be the problem?” The elleth entered the king's private rooms to help as she had often done and was almost expected to do so by both Legolas and Thranduil of late. 

“His Highness claims the eggs we brought for his breakfast first were too dry, but the ones we replaced them with he says are too oily and would make him feel sick,” Galion explained patiently, used to dealing with the king's mood swings not just since his poisoning, but from before as well. 

“You may leave now, I will take over,” Tauriel assured, making both Galion and his wife, Mirima the cook give a half concealed, relieved sigh at not having to deal with the ill-tempered ruler for the time being. 

Tauriel waited patiently while the servants bowed, closed the door behind them and took their leave, and then some more. Just as she had expected, now that nobody else was around to witness his weakness, the king walked over to his bed and lay back on the raised pillows, one leg still on the ground. Thranduil had good and bad days throughout his illness and this was obviously a bad one. The elleth walked over to the dressing table silently and picked up the three vials that were always kept around, filled with medicine respectively for pain, nausea and stomach cramps and poured her king a glass of water, expertly dispersing the right amount of drops from each vial into mixture. 

Thranduil accepted it just as silently, habitually. It was as if they didn't talk about it, his feebleness wouldn't exist. “Anything I should know about what is happening in my kingdom right now?” The king questioned evenly, resting his head by tilting it backwards onto the pillows. He outwardly appeared the epitome of calmness all of a sudden, but Tauriel knew better than that. Thranduil was just tired, and some days, vastly so. If he refused food, there was a reason for it too, but his stubbornness will test and delay her ability to help.

“Nothing that would require your presence for the moment.” She assured. “Legolas is holding court discussing terms of trade with some members of the community in Dale and we will have the monthly overview of the defence system after.”

“Legolas is discussing terms of trade.” Thranduil repeated, sceptical. He sighed, and pulled himself into a sitting position, “let's get to it then,” he declared resignedly, raising an arm to indicate he wanted Tauriel's help to get to his feet. 

Tauriel did not move an inch. “He had spent most of the last two days in the library, studying the old scrolls detailing the trade of wool and maize if I recall correctly.” She defended her friend. 

Thranduil scrutinised her expression with vexation, then dropped his arm, deciding she was serious in claiming Legolas could deal with it. “Catching up, huh?” He grunted, displeased. “But happy about it he is not.” While his voice was factual, Tauriel still assumed he must've been feeling guilty about it.

“Were you happy the first time you had to do it?” The redhead countered.

“Even with my father dying unexpectedly and suddenly, I have never been so unprepared as Legolas.” Thranduil stated, voice hard and callous. He seemed to be thrown between blaming his son for not knowing how to rule a kingdom and doing everything possible so Legolas didn't have to. But not today. Giving up on the undertaking for the time being, he eased himself back down, hand going to his stomach as he sighed, not looking in shape for a venture on this day. 

“Should I call for Mablung, Sire?” Tauriel offered compassionately. It was breaking her heart to see him suffer like this, any elf. The occurrence was very unusual amongst their ranks, being ill for so long, but it was the nature of the poison. “Are the potions not helping?” 

Thranduil fixed her languidly, lethargically with his gaze, as if at a loss. He waved her off then, abject. “He can't do anything else for me.” 

Tauriel nibbled at her lips, feeling her eyes becoming glassier with moisture. Their proud king was almost unrecognisable, particularly his demeanour, by only a few months of weighing down fatigue and frequent, torturesome stomach cramps. “Allow me to at least try and use the tincture he made for outside application.” She pleaded, looking around in the room for the decanter she knew held it.

The older elf gave a dismissive handgesture. There was no strong intent in it, as far as Tauriel could tell, he simply indicated he didn't care whether she used it or not, sure it would be of not much help. The redhead however felt like she needed to do something, anything, to see him suffer less, by however little she could manage and jumped into action, preparing the cloth Mablung used for the treatment sessions. Quick and efficient as she had seen many times how it was done when she stood guard at the beginning of Thranduil's illness before they figured out who the poisoner was, Tauriel only stalled when her hand was mere inches from Thranduil's belly and she realised she would have to touch him in ways inappropriate for a maiden of her standing. 

Thranduil however, had decided to humour her, opening his tunic just as disinterestedly and dejectedly as before. He was complying, going through the motions without belief and active involvement. Tauriel smoothed the cloth saturated with the soothing tincture on his tummy nevertheless, noting how he had to stifle a groan at her touch. She watched him space out, lost in that torment he had to endure every day. At least Legolas was too busy to see it most of the time, though he did come, more often than his duties as acting ruler would've allowed. He trusted her to look after Thranduil's needs, surprisingly for her given their history, but not as surprisingly as Thranduil's own call for her when the incident happened, “why me?” She blurted out into the silence. “How did you know I was to be trusted with your life? I have made an attempt at your life before.”

“Why? Is there a reason I should not trust you?” Thranduil looked up at her through half lidded eyes, supine.

“Well, I would be lying if I didn't acknowledge I can be volatile and unpredictable,” Tauriel admitted. 

“I have nothing to fear from you. Your principal motivator is love and it will always prevail. Now tell me, how does my son fare? The truth. Does he make considerate and wise decisions? What do the people make of them? And is he at least enjoying his role in any way? Which is the other reason why I chose you. Your closeness to Legolas will give me the perspective I need.”

“I am certain he will be a wise and kind king, when the time comes. I am not aware of anyone questioning any decision of his so far, he makes sure he listens to his advisers' words beforehand and then he makes his own, informed decision,” Tauriel advised the king, “and as for him being happy, we all wish for your speedy recovery, My Lord.”

“What if I don't recover.” Thranduil probed, peering at her to gauge her reaction.

“Don't say such a thing, Sire!” She jumped, barely registering that she'd just chastised him. “Today might be a bad day, but Mablung says that overall you're recovering.”

“Of course that's what he says, we wouldn't want the kingdom in disarray.”

Tauriel turned to downright stare at him, startled. “Is it not true.”

Thranduil gave a dismissive flourish, “perhaps. All the same, I need to know if Legolas will manage.”

The warrior maiden gave a hesitant nod, but not for the lack of believing in the prince. She simply did not want to contemplate the possibility of Legolas having to take on the role of elvenking for real, “I have trust in him, My Lord, and so do the rest of the troops. They will follow him unquestioningly.”

“Thank you Tauriel,” Thranduil averted his gaze, having finished talking as far as he was concerned, “you may tend to your guard duties outside the door,” he dismissed her. 

The redhead complied, albeit slowly and in thought. She reached the doorframe when she arrived to a decision and spoke out boldly, “Sire, if I may say something.” 

Thranduil gave no indication that he had heard her, thus there were no objections either so she went on. “I have seen many die in battle or combat, violent, pointless loss of lives. I do not know much about dying slowly, but I believe it is no less pointless if it's at all preventable.”

The king turned his head to cast a disdainful look at her, with some surprise and sings of distress mixed in. However, as he didn't know what she was getting at, he let her continue: “I do not know much about bonding for eternity with another elf either, but I do know that when my mother died, my father shortly followed, even though as far as I can remember, and judge now from a distance from the memories of a child, his injuries were not fatal in themselves. I also know the opposite to be true at times. If one of the spouses is hale and strong, they can bring the other back from the brink of death with their love. So what I was going to suggest is taking into consideration the power of love, My Lord. Wouldn't it help to bind you to our world if you took another wife?”

Thranduil stood fluidly, driven by fury at the attack at his most intimate, private matters, “insolence! OUT!” He pointed, breathing rapidly. 

Tbc


	4. Fitting

Chapter 4: Fitting

Tauriel gaped at the few, randomly placed flowers on the top of her dresser. Not just any kind of flowers, but the star shaped Elanor, not indigenous to Mirkwood. If the redhead didn't know with certainly that nobody would dare to steal flowers that most ostensibly could've only came from the king's private gardens where the influence of the Necromancer could not reach, she would've thought somebody was playing a farce on her expense. That was one surprise she could just about cope with, but when she saw a silhouette's shadow manifesting on her plain wall, her reflexive response was to grab an arrow and draw her bow. 

“I think we've covered that situation already,” the king's silky, smooth voice countered her actions. Thranduil was sitting on her nightstand for lack of a proper seat, leaning against the wall, his long, velvet cape covering half her available space between the sparse furniture. 

Tauriel had to back away against her door to feel like she'd given him the reputable distance customary between king and subject. “I...I am glad to see you able to manage being up and about, hir vuin,” she gave, flabbergasted. 

“It's a good day, for pretences,” he gestured dismissively.

“It means you're well enough to pretend you are fit and that's good in itself,” she countered.

“There's always a riposte with you, isn't there?” The blond humphed sternly.

“Forgive me, My Lord,” she bowed as low as her body let her this time. “And I beg your forgiveness for the other day too, I meant well, but I stepped out of line and yet I need you to know, hir vuin, that I was only having your wellbeing and the good of the kingdom at heart.”

“I know,” the king stood in one fluid motion, the appendages of his robes taking their time to swipe round him for their length. Thranduil advanced a few steps in all his elegance, tilting his head to the side as he regarded her curiously, as if he would've never seen her. “No matter what I do or say, you still think and act like you're my equal. Do you know there's no other elleth in the land and beyond who dares so.”

Tauriel drew her eyes away to fix them to the floor in embarassement. The audacious she had been in the past, she had sworn to tone down her behaviour and right now, she was disappointing herself with her previous boldness to speak up. “I doubt anybody can imagine this kingdom without your guidance and protection, that is why I overstepped the mark, but I will strive to show my respect for you My Lord more exhaustively and I thank...”

“I don't want you to.” Thranduil interrupted her dismissively. 

The captain's eyes snapped up at him, looking into his eyes questioningly, yet another offence not ordinarily expected from a subordinate. She couldn't help but gasp when the king advanced some more, practically trapping her with her back being against the closed door of the entrance. “I have pondered long and profound on your suggestion Tauriel and I have arrived to the conclusion that it's not beyond reason.”

“I'm glad, My Lord,” the redhead felt she should be relieved, and yet she wasn't. The confrontation wasn't over yet.

“The only issue with bonding with another immortal mate away from the undying lands is that bonds are forged on love.” He pondered further.

“I have all the trust in you Your Highness, that your heart will find the right note. You know how to love another, if only the knowledge is a little rusty.”

Thranduil pursed his lips disapprovingly. “Yes, the heart. Capricious little thing, don't you think? Orders and commands it does not take easily.”

“That it does not,” she agreed, “but opening it up to new experiences it could lead to inklings of feelings and then there's no stopping, it all rushes in.” Another bold statement, but she was encouraged by their closeness that Thranduil chose, no apparent threat in his voice or stance.

The king gave a longsuffering sigh, “that isn't my predicament, Tauriel. My predicament is that my heart is already filled with love for a wonderously unparalelled elf. I would have to empty my heart first and that, you must know, is not an easy feat.”

Tauriel nodded. Like forcing her heart not to love Kili after his death cause it was pointless, useless and it only caused her heartache. “Does it not fade away, not even with the passing of centuries?” She queried, partly out of self interest. 

“I'm not talking about my wife.” Thranduil established. “As I said, I have cogitated your suggestion and arrived to the judgement that given the state of affairs and of my health at the moment, some circumstances can be ignored. For the sake of the kingdom, of course. For the betrothal to give me strength, I need to bond with someone I have love in my heart for and swiftly. So therefore...” Thranduil lowered himself. 

Tauriel raised her hands, ready to catch him. He didn't look like his illness was particularly affecting him at the moment, but maybe he was that good at pretending. Under the allencompassing robes it was hard to figure out what he was doing, but Tauriel soon had to arrive to the conclusion that he knelt down on one knee on purpose given the words that came out his mouth next: “Tauriel. Will you marry me?” His palm opened to display a thin, elegant little ring, encrusted with little gems all round to the extent barely any metal could be seen. “We had used one of your archery gloves to take measurements. It should fit.”

tbc


	5. Swash

Chapter 5: Swash

Tauriel gasped and spluttered and suddenly did not know how to take air herself. What had just happened? “What?” She panted, her palms needing the purchase of the heavy wooden door. “Why would you say that, My Lord?” A person so ill, could they be joking? And out of all, Thranduil, the icy king? Had the poison finally make him lose his mind?

Thranduil appeared to have more difficulties standing back up than he had going down, so Tauriel found herself scrambling to provide the purchase his trembling frame was looking for. His hand being occupied with the ring she didn't dare touch, the captain of the guard encircled him under the arms to steady him, “please sit down, Sire,” she managed to manoeuvre him towards the neatly made bed by the time his legs gave out and he unceremoniously fell onto the covers, pulling his helper with her. 

“Are you all right, My Lord?” Tauriel pushed herself up on her arms, quick with trying to untangle herself from the other elf's form. 

“Should I take that as a no?” Thranduil sat upright, arranging his disarrayed tunic in accordance with the air of composure and aloofness he was trying to convey.

Tauriel stood up, treading backwards and not taking her eyes off her king, astonishment still written on her features, “I don't understand why you would do such a thing,” she shook her head, referring to his previous actions with a spinning, sceptical head. 

“I thought I've explained myself,” the king stated stonily. He would storm out, offended that the redhead dared to oppose her ruler once more, but knew he would just end up crumpling to the ground right now if the reappearing stomach cramps were anything to go by. The day's strain was doing him no good. He had come here all under his own power and the servants were probably looking for him as we speak.

The archer shook her head in hope it will clear it. “You harbour love for me?” She tried to comprehend his previous words. “That's what you were trying to say?”

Thranduil gave an eyeroll, “how typical of you to make your king repeat himself,” he huffed disapprovingly. 

“I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness, but it isn't a simple matter we're talking about here as if it would be the weather. I have to admit, I am rather confused and surprised and do not know where that came from. If I could please be permitted a few moments to process your request?”

The elvenking raised his eyebrows. It was very unlikely for someone to turn down a royal marriage proposal, but then again, this was Tauriel. “Take as much time as you need,” he sighed and grabbed for the head of bed for purchase to stand up, “it's not like I will be going further than my chambers,” he spat, frustrated by his own incapabilities. 

“No, no,” Tauriel quietened him, standing right in front of him to bodily prevent him from getting up, “I need to understand and I can only understand by you telling me everything,” she pleaded, “how did this happen all of a sudden?”

Thranduil fixed her with a steady gaze, gauging her response, then moved his head to indicate he wanted her to sit next to him. Tauriel complied in a haze, torn between wanting to run a mile in embarrassment and shyness, and eager to believe the connection she imagined to exist between them was in fact real. 

“There was nothing sudden about it, I can assure you,” the blond began, “it happened over time. Let me start at the beginning. At first of course, you were little. A child, in need of protection, guidance and a safe standing. I knew it right off you would be perfect for the guard, having survived out in the forest on your own for months. Legolas had taken to you immediately and with him having lost his mother not so long beforehand, I have indulged him mostly in everything he wanted, which at that point was a companion, a training partner, a friend, a sister, family. For the first hundred years I didn't think of you any different than that, as a child, a surrogate daughter, a companion for my son. You were a pretty little girl who liked to behave like a boy all the same, endearing in your ways of defying every tutor and proving them all wrong by learning yourself more and faster than they could ever teach you, fascinating in the manner you could always get your own way when faced with Legolas. I already knew you were trouble by then, but I did not imagine the ways how exactly, not till you grew into a woman, pretty and strong and insubordinate, not until I realised the unease I felt when you spent your days with my son wasn't because I didn't want him to marry below his standing, but because jealousy was making me mad.”

Tauriel blinked slowly and markedly, confusion written on her face, “when was this, My Lord? I...I thought the lenience and exceptions you made with me were for Legolas' sake.”

“He had his hands on you often when you trained together and you were so casual about it, as if nothing would've happened, as if it would've been the most natural thing in the world. You have no idea how torturesome to watch that was.”

The redhead's forehead creased, “we haven't done that kind of combat training since the preparations to venture out to pave a road through to the marshes, some two hundred years ago? I have become conscious of his advances and intentions shortly after and did not allow much physical contact afterwards.” She wondered, “if you've felt something for me since then, you've kept it a secret well.”

“I'm a widower and I loved my wife deeply, Tauriel. It was going to remain a secret till the end of times. But then your suggestion came and I indeed don't feel like I am able to continue without a strong connection to this world for anchor,” he revealed. “Who else should I marry? Someone I don't know? Someone I cannot find a space in my heart for as it's already occupied?” He spoke level, earnest, looking into her eyes. 

Tauriel shook her head, troubled by the intensity of the naked gaze and thus, she looked away. “My Lord,” she slid down the bed to kneel now herself at his feet, “I would do everything that I am capable of to make you well, grateful for your care and guidance for me throughout most of my life. I am miserable to see you suffer. Only the feelings I have for you, are favourable and fond, of a protective nature, but is it love? I am not sure if it would be enough and the responsibility is enormous. I fear I might fail you and then what?” She raised desperate eyes at him, pleading.

Thranduil raised a pointing finger and placed it above her heart slowly, in between her breasts, “you will not fail me. That fire inside you, that passion for all beings that can only come from the truest daughter of the forest, that love, trust me, I believe in it. Tauriel.” He opened the palm that still held the ring, “be my wife. Be my saviour.” 

“I would not dare to defy you, My Lord, nor have any wishes to do so,” she bowed her head and took the hand in front of her to kiss before she made bold to hesitantly reach out to his other hand and pick the little jewellery item signifying his intentions up, with the little encouragement of his heartening look and nod. It was beautiful, the gems green and matching her preferred outfit, the colour of a healthy forest and while she preferred not to wear any adornment for the sake of them inhibiting her movement necessary for her job, this particular came the closest to be acceptable even under those circumstances. She marvelled at it, long and incredulous, it was almost as astonishing as the king's, her fiancée's? expression: impish in cognisance of her reaction and openly adoring for it being acceptable now. It was not an countenance she ever anticipated to see coming from him in her direction, or a situation she would ever foresee being in. 

“I will place it on your finger now,” Thranduil reached out to take the item. That sobered her up. 

Tauriel just about accepted that the king actually kept it secret for centuries that he loved her and if she thought about it, it all made sense now, but...“What about Legolas?” She panicked. “He will feel hurt, betrayed. By both of us.” 

“Oh.” Thranduil smiled, “I have made him aware of the situation.” 

“And he was alright with it?” Tauriel's mouth dropped.

“That, I doubt, but he sure was not surprised. I was surprised however,” Thranduil admitted, “that he knew about my feelings for you.”

“He did?” Tauriel marvelled as well.

“He knows me and my strict approach. He had suspected since I did not execute you for treason. There are only two elves in the kingdom, I wouldn't, him and you.” 

Tauriel lowered her eyes. While that had occurred to her before, the implications have not. How foolish of her. “I am so sorry for my behaviour that day.”

“I almost lost you. Once to your lover and once to your principles, your commitment to protect life. But no more,” he finally placed the ring on the appropriate finger and reached behind her cheek to pull her towards him till their lips touched. Leaning forward like that was not comfortable for his aching belly, but right at this moment, he didn't care. He kissed her soft and tender, barely tasting her lips, aware that while he had dreamed of this happening for a long time, it came as a bit of an unexpected turn for her. Only when their lips parted and he found no resistance with the first kiss that he parted his lips and devoured her more eagerly. 

Tauriel pushed forwards, against him, her arms coming up round him, opening her own mouth, letting him in, their tongues to mingle. He tasted of acrid wine and medicine, but she didn't mind. Kissing the king was a different kind of thrill she ever experienced, but it made her breathless and wanting more all the same. 

He grunted, his head lowering and his hand went to his abdomen as he pulled back, “I'm sorry, it hurts,” he winced in apology. 

tbc


	6. Together

Chapter 6: Together

“Let me take out a small squad a least, a dozen or two of fighters,” Tauriel suggested. “It should not affect Mirkwood's ability to defend itself, especially as most of Mordor's forces are concentrated on marching towards Minas Tirith. Rammas Echor, Osgiliath is no more, and so I can't stand and hide out idly while Legolas and Gandalf need our help in what possibly will be the most important battle in holding back the forces of Sauron. Whatever you say, the outcome will ultimately affect us and thus it is in our interest to lend our assistance as much as it is possible,” the queen was taking a stance in front of the throne defiantly, choosing to stand and tower over her consort up close, preventing him to rise without the danger of pushing her off the high platform the antlered throne was built onto. Just a few years of being married had established a well oiled dynamic between them where knowing how strong willed they both were, they generally strived to avoid conflict and confrontation unless one of them felt the matter was too important not to. And Queen Tauriel's feelings were strong on this one-while she let him away with a passive-unless-provoked approach to defence for the sake of marital concordance, the redhead found it unacceptable to leave it to others to fight battles that determined the whole of Middle-Earth's fate.

“The journey would be perilous and the outcome of the fight might already be decided by the time you get there...” Thranduil started.

“Your son is out there, taking responsibility and a stand for all of what we as Mirkwood elves believe in!” Tauriel interrupted, “if nothing else, than a delegacy to protect the crown prince I would expect from you!” She argued. 

“My darling Queen,” Thranduil rose, nodding at her in customary respect while he reached out to encircle her. The platform up there was indeed too small for two and it was now him who used that to his advantage and initiated an intimacy that should in theory disarm some of her defences. His new wife was a wild kitten who could often be tamed with a gentle caress, passionate kisses or the pacifying lull of cozy lie-ins. 

“Don't my-darling-queen me and unhand me immediately!” She pushed at him, which resulted in both of them landing in his throne, with Tauriel nigh straddling the older elf. The staff made a nosedive into the abysm for the servants to retrieve at a later time, but not as if he needed it to lean on these days, his living, flesh elvenanchor to the mortal realm currently residing in his lap was sufficient enough to help him stay strong from the very moment they officially bonded in the form of an announced engagement. 

Tauriel settled in, arranging her limbs in a more comfortable position around his waist and sighed, fingering his shoulder. She smoothed her hand on the pleasant feel of the velvety fabric his coat was made of and took on a different approach, “I'm worried about Legolas and I know you are too. He can handle himself, but he prefers to stay away from Mirkwood as much as it's feasible and I feel somewhat guilty about that. So I'm hereby asking permission to aid him this time?” She rubbed his chest through the layers of clothing, pushing hard absently so she could still feel up his muscles. 

“You are not in the guard and you are no captain,” Thranduil chastised her, “and so you don't have to ask permission.”

“I don't?” Tauriel's eyebrows creased in confusion, “I can just make my own decisions and go?” She contemplated wearily. Their engagement had been several years long and she had only been crowned recently, them having given up on waiting for Legolas' return for it, a sore absence perhaps very intentional on the prince's part. With so little time in the role, Tauriel doubted she would ever get used to being the Elvenqueen. It was such a sharp contrast to who she used to be and she wasn't quite trusting everyone to suddenly view her with all the privileges and status that came with such an elevated position. 

“No, you don't. But it is a deep, unspoken expectation that you respect your partner and abide by his decisions.”

“Thanks for nothing,” Tauriel spat. She was preparing to withdraw from him again and start with the offensive anew. 

“If you would let me put a few words in, you would find that my decisions will satisfy you.” Thranduil intercepted. Noting he had her attention, he gave her the special little smile he reserved for her rash behaviour that amused him and tilted his head consiprationally, “I've given the army two days to stock up on provisions and ammunition. We're leaving the dawn after the next,” he announced, waiting for her reaction, which did not disappoint. 

“The army...? We...?” The whole ordeal was worth just for that astonished look on her face. Thranduil had always found great pleasure in surprising his wife, sometimes by presenting her with by her unimagined privileges and sometimes by confessing his love, something she was still taking for an undeserved gift.

“I trust we should be able to rally up a thousand spearmen and another thousand bowmen in solid certitude that the fortress will remain strongly guarded with the remaining forces left behind under Feren's command.” 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” Tauriel shook her head, her hands stalling their caress of his upper body, “you don't mean you have the intention to lead an army!” She sounded scandalised.

“It is my army,” the king tittered, amused. 

Tauriel continued to shake her head, “Thranduil. You shouldn't. The journey will take a toll on your health. No appropriate place to rest, potential danger round every corner. And how will you fare in close combat!” The redhead regarded him worriedly. “It's not as if you had partaken in any regular preparation since your illness.”

Thanduil gave a thinking pause. It was Tauriel who surprised him this time. She should've been joyous, pleased and amazed that they were not just in agreement, but that he deemed the operation so important that he was ready to deploy two thirds of his military forces for the cause. “I will not leave it to my queen to fight my battles for me,” he established firmly, then averted his eyes, a shadow of some dark emotion akin to guilt passing his features, “I will not put myself in a position where I get separated from my queen during a state of war.” 

“It...happens all the time?” The ex captain tried warily. Sure, it was usually the other way round, with the king leading his campaign away, that didn't make the state of affairs any less valid. 

Thranduil shook his head minutely and he cupped her cheek with fingers that trembled slightly, affected by restrained emotion. He would not lose another queen the same way. “We won't part,” he established resolutely. 

Tauriel fixed him with a contemplative gaze. She knew him well enough to know when she had leave way for manoeuvre to possibly change his mind and when it was futile to raise any objections. All in all, his decision was favourable, but she feared he would tire out or put himself in danger due to his weakness manifesting at the wrong moment. “Delay departure with a couple of days. We go to the training halls and make sure you are suitably fit for the venture.” She proposed. 

“Is my stamina in bed not sufficient proof of endurance for you?” He enquired alluringly.

“You and I both know that's not the same,” she argued.

“Very well,” Thranduil placed his arms under her buttocks and stood, lifting her up in the process.

“What are you doing?” Tauriel inquired in vexation as they started to descend the stairs. She did not like him exerting himself for no good reason and being carried for romantic effect as it was, judging by his seductive smirk, didn't count as a good reason. 

“Would it satisfy Your Royal Highness if I carried you to our chambers and made love to you till daybreak without setting you down once?” The blond teased, taking direction towards that destination.

Tauriel closed her eyes momently, half in eager anticipation, half in annoyance at his sidetracking. “Satisfy me, you say?” She joined in his game. He was more laid-back and likely to want to please her in the afterglow of their lovemaking, so perhaps she could convince him to accept her terms later. 

“Good night, Your Majesties,” an echo of several voices greeted them periodically as soon as they turned into the tunnel that led to the most hidden quarters, guards and servants expressing their regard for the Elvenking and his wife. 

It made Tauriel bury her face in the taller elf's shoulder, blushing in embarrassment. Thranduil had never acted shy about taking what was his due, but the open displays of his affection for her still made her overly conscious and thus uncomfortable about it. The redhead was smitten by it all the same, a feeling of love and gratitude engulfing her to chase out all other emotion. “Are you really alright to go to war? All you have to do is say so and I will accept it as the truth,” she mellowed.

“I believe I am, melda nin.”

“Is your stomach not sore? Tell me the as it is,” Tauriel pressed.

Thranduil pursed his lips, “will my burnt cheek ever not feel numb? My stomach, with the right diet and herbs is just as dirigible as the illusion over my face.”

“It's not the same though if it hurts.”

“It's not bad, bar for the occasional day,” he admitted.

Tauriel humphed, “I'm the one who has to watch you moan and curl into your stomach while you sleep.”

“May I remind you that you stated only a minute ago that you would believe what I say and accept my decision.”

The elleth tightened her arms around her husband as if her hug could make everything better, “I do, hervenn, I do.” She wasn't just aiming to make their discordance go away, but every affliction he had as well.

“So delaying troops and my proving myself by making love to you all night no longer necessary I take it?” He teased.

“No. But I won't object to the second part if you do,” she smiled, her face buried in his hair as they reached the royal bedchambers.

 

The End.


End file.
